Hunter's Night
by hobgoblin123
Summary: Gerald goes a hunting; set at the beginning of CoS between Tarrant's return to the Forest and his detour to hell. Slash Tarrant/Vryce, but nothing explicit for a change


**Hunter's Night**

Disclaimer: I don't own either the Coldfire Trilogy or the song 'Hunter's Night' by Russel Allen and Jorn Lande

Warnings:Slash, but nothing more than a kiss; contains a fair amount of _'Geraldness'_, though...

A/N: I suppose this is technically my first songfic, and you can find the complete lyrics at the end of the story; I switched some of the lines to suit my plot and changed the _'she'_ to _'he'_ for obvious reasons. Despite all the horrible stuff I've done to poor Gerald in my fics so far I had no intention whatsoever to transform him into a woman...;-)

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_The heavy air is hard to breath_  
_He feels the smell of fear_  
_He senses it in the air..._

On a clearing in the vast expanses of the Forbidden Forest the Hunter tilted his head, his delicate nostrils flaring as he tested the air like a scenting animal. The intoxicating aromas of fear and warm human blood were heavy in the air and went to his head like a strong wine, and he inhaled deeply, savouring that mouthwatering scent radiating from the doomed mortal desperately trying to clear a way through the tangle of undergrowth. He had known for a long time now that it would end like this, that his favourite prey would relent to the lure of his seductive insinuations and rush headlong into disaster with open eyes, had refrained from the hunt and saved up his hunger for this special occasion, but on the brink of achieving his aim at long last he was panting after pouncing on his victim and sating the cravings of his inhuman body. Shivering with need Gerald could feel his canines elongating and his pupils dilating until the pale silver in white was drowned in an ocean of black as lightless as the heart of a true night, and a violent shudder passed through his lean frame. Usually he despised the outer manifestations of his monstrous existence, but now the time for holding back and keeping up appearances had come to an end, and he would be once more what his nature demanded of him.

_There's nowhere to run_  
_And there's nowhere, nowhere to hide._

Still too far off to be audible for anything but his keen predator senses stumbling footsteps approached, accompanied by the enticing sound of sobs and fragments of whispered prayers, and the Hunter smiled, his white teeth glittering in the moonlight. This was his domain, his biological stronghold created solely for his malevolent purposes, and the human didn't have a chance in hell to escape his web. Centuries of experience had taught him how to perfect the hunt, how to prolongate his pleasure by fuelling the hope of the little lambs running for their lives just to force them back into his waiting arms and let the trap spring just before the third sunrise promised them escape from death's gaping maw. Whatever the dumb multitudes believed in not a single one had ever managed to return from his sinister realm unless he had _allowed_ them to for his own benefit. In his early days the unbearable thirst had forced him to rip the throat out of his prey and gorge on their blood as soon as he had taken them down, but after a few decades he had slowly learned to retain control, and the encounter with that brave female Knight of the Flame hundreds of years ago had opened up further undreamed-of possibilities. Tarrant had always been a man of refined tastes, and the brutal attack and consequent feasting on his victims' lifeblood paled in comparison to his sadistic delight in bringing their worst fears to life for them and drinking down the deliciously sweet nectar of the final death of hope. Now the chosen one was near, and Gerald intended to drain this cup to the dregs.

_Don't you look into his evil eyes_  
_Don't touch his cold skin or you slowly will die_

The foolhardy priest truly should have listened to the warnings of his religious authorities, but as usual he had been much too stubborn for his own good, and tonight he would pay the ultimate price for this dereliction of duty. At the beginning of their acquaintance he had been a mere annoyance, a thorn in Tarrant's immortal flesh which could have been pulled out without so much as a second thought, but undermining the pillars of Vryce's soul just as he had foretold back in the Rakhlands so many months ago had offered a more rewarding entertainment than the simple act of ridding himself of his jarring presence for good. For Damien he had indeed become the most subtle creature of all, and tracing his slow but steady corruption as revulsion and initial hatred had changed fundamentally to reluctant acceptance of their unlikely alliance at first and then to camaraderie until the warrior knight hadn't been able to discern right from wrong any longer had kept him amused throughout their hazardous travels.

Gerald chuckled maliciously._ 'Evil is what you make of it (...) Bind it to a higher purpose, and you will have altered its nature_ (BSR, page 169) he had proclaimed more than nine hundred years ago, and if Vryce had truly imagined himself capable of beating the Prophet of the Law at his own game he had to be even more self-delusional than Gerald had previously imagined. The priest's unwavering attempts at redeeming a damned creature who had committed unspeakable atrocities while existing beyond the grace of God for nigh to a millennium now were futile in the extreme, but leafing through his mind at night in order to find the fitting ingredients for the torturous nightmares Tarrant had encountered a darker undercurrent in Vryce's feelings, a dread so forbidding that the priest had banished it to the deepest abysses of his soul still untouched by Gerald's manipulations. Confronting his prey with those emotions might evoke fear more delectable than anything he had ever tasted in all the long years of his existence, and the mere thought of feasting on the priest's suffering caused a surge of hunger so overpowering that Gerald squeezed his eyes shut and dug his shaking fingers into the bark of a gnarled, misshapen alteroak tree. Swallowing convulsively his pointed teeth so much sharper and deadlier than a human's cut his lower lip, and the taste of his own icy blood on his tongue very nearly drove him over the edge with unbridled greed. Soon, so very soon...

_Here he comes chasing after your poor soul_  
_He won't let your heart go on_  
_The hunter's night will last forever..._

The Hunter ran, relishing in the swift moves of his tireless limbs and the sweet caresses of the dark fae curling around his cold flesh and whispering seductively of slaked needs and destinies fulfilled. Up to now he had contented himself with employing the very same horror scenarios he had used for creating Vryce's nightmares destined to feed him during the long months at sea and had confronted his unlikely brother in arms with appalling visions of the patriarch stripping him of the outer accoutrements of his vocation and mankind's enslavement by the demon Calesta alike, but meanwhile he found their impact somewhat wanting, and dismissing them he reached out with his malignant will and shattered the last barriers shielding the priest's vulnerable human soul from the true nature of his worst fears until he found what he had been looking for.

Shocked at the appalling image of Vryce crying his heart out over his dead body Tarrant froze in full career and blinked, utterly taken aback at the stunning revelation that in fact the warrior knight dreaded nothing more than the final death of the man who had once been the Premier Knight of his order. When Gerald had finally overcome his surprise he smirked derisively. Right from the beginning he had suspected that Vryce suffered from a pronounced helper's syndrome when he had fretted over the killing of that worthless drug addict in Briand, but now Damien was definitely outdoing himself. However this was truly an interesting development, and the Neocount of Merentha had no scruples whatsoever to take advantage of his companion's unbelievable softheartedness.

Damien had to be very close now, and the coppery odour of the blood pumped through his veins by his hammering heart was almost palpable in the still night air and blended out the less pleasant scents of rotting leaves, stripped bones and the wretched Amoril's omnipresent four-legged pets. Gerald closed his eyes and moaned softly. Although he'd been feeding on the priest's fear for hours now he was starving, starving as he had been on board of the Golden Glory, and Vryce was the only acceptable sustenance for sating his gnawing hunger. After all it was his companion's fault anyway if he came to grief in the Hunter's lair. A clergyman who was foolish enough to fall for a creature called the Darkest Prince of Hell with good reason in utter disregard of the teachings of Tarrant's most treasured creation just had to bear the consequences, hadn't he? In spite of a few short-lived moments of weakness owed to the accursed taint of the priest's humanity and tiring morals Gerald still was what the Unnamed had made of him so many years ago, and there was no use denying one's true nature. If he was lucky ridding the world of a man of the Church might even grant him a bonus in the eyes of his merciless benefactors who were doubtlessly licking their lips in anticipation of his punishment.

Effortlessly the Neocount of Merentha invaded Damien's defenseless mind again, conjuring up horrendous visions of their ultimate defeat and the devastated warrior knight surviving him in a world remolded to Calesta's liking which rather resembled the deepest pits of hell than the safe haven the human colonists had been hoping for when they had first set foot on this fickle planet. The soul of his victim cringed in panic, and a cruel smile played upon Tarrant's thin, chill lips. _There's nowhere to run, a__nd there's nowhere, nowhere to hide, Vryce. _Binding the fae to his purposes the Hunter merged with the darkness under the trees and waited patiently for the arrival of his priceless prey.

_No one out there knows he's here_  
_Hurry before it's too late_  
_Silent steps approaching you.._

Thorny branches covered in rotting lichen parted, and Damien staggered into view, his handsome features barely recognizable under layers of dirt and tears distorted in anguish. His clothes were torn to shreds and his bulky body was scarred by cuts and bruises, but to Gerald's twisted mind the sight was alluring beyond his wildest expectations. Finally the man who had dared to defy him at every step was completely and utterly at his mercy, and there was no denying that the Hunter hadn't possessed a shred of it for a very long time now. Trickles of blood oozed from the superficial wounds, igniting a renewed surge of the old hunger which threatened to shatter the last remnants of his self-control, and when the object of his desire fell on his knees with a scream of utmost despair something inside Tarrant snapped. Hissing like a wild uncat the adept lunged so fast that no mortal eye would have been capable of discerning the motion and dragged the warrior knight all the way to the ground.

Any vestiges of lucidity whatsoever drowned in an ocean of blood-thirst Gerald didn't bother to sustain the visions of utter doom he had created for Vryce's benefit any longer, and he intently watched as a hint of awareness returned to the warrior knight's hazel eyes. Soon Vryce would realize what kind of fate was laying in store for him, and he burned with the desire to devour that precious moment of visceral terror when the priest's soul finally abandoned all hope.

"Gerald? What the hell...?"

For a fleeting second Tarrant succumbed to the temptation of seeing himself with Damien s eyes, and he shivered with a weird mixture of anticipation and self-loathing. The creature hovering over the warrior knight like God's angel of death poised to claim his hapless prey bore no more than a fleeting resemblance to a human being with its ivory fangs, inhumanly white skin and those utterly unearthly eyes resembling windows to the very hell which was already waiting for him, and without a doubt beholding the monster usually hidden under a veneer of aristocratic sophistication the confusion on Vryce's filthy face would be replaced by terror and abhorrence at any given moment now. Maybe Gerald should have taken into consideration though that his nemesis had never failed to amaze him yet, but in his current state he wasn't in the least prepared for the priest's astounding reaction as strong arms wrapped around his waist and pulled him into a tight embrace. "Merciful God in heaven, you're alive! I though I had lost you forever."

What on Earth and Erna was Vryce babbling about? Of course he was alive, or what counted for _'alive'_ in his undead state, but presumably the warrior knight was still under the delusion of the visions he had created for his benefit. The strong affection clearly audible in Damien's strangled voice struck a chord with Gerald however, and for a moment the carmine fog of his murderous frenzy lifted and he faintly remembered that being the cause for his ally's untimely demise shouldn't be on his agenda unless the priest abode by his promise and tried to finish him off first.

Frowning Tarrant stiffened and struggled for regaining his composure. The ritual hunt should have left him in absolute control over the proceedings, and there was something very, very odd about his disturbing lack of self-restraint. All at once the image of a delicate porcelain visage framed by a veritable torrent of black hair and a soft voice brimming with with _concern _for him of all things arose from somewhere deep down in the recesses of his fathomless mind, and shaken to the core he remembered another night when Calesta had offered him the perfect prey just to set a deadly trap for him. Manipulated by the sadistic Iezu he had come unsettlingly close to breaking his promise and setting his immortal soul at stake in the process, and Tarrant had no intention whatsoever to make the same mistake twice.

Sifting through the currents provided no evidence of a malignant influence of any kind whatsoever, but notwithstanding the choked voice of reason momentarily gained attention, screaming a warning that he mustn't give in to the lure of his baser appetences by any means if only because he still needed Vryce for battling his archenemy, and dazedly the adept wondered if he'd better call it a night and send Vryce back to his infuriating patriarch without laying a finger on him.

The Hunter tried to disentangle himself from the sobbing human who was still clinging to him like a lifeline to sanity, but the utterly unaccustomed display of weakness on the part of the blunt, courageous warrior knight set his nerves on fire and threatened to let his control slip once again. Vryce was so pliant now as the last defences of his soul had crumbled into dust and he had been confronted with his deepest fears, so beguilingly_ vulnerable_ that the adept's predatory instincts kicked in with a vengeance and his capacity for rational thinking was smothered by a suffocating blanket of blood lust no less compelling than in the first decades after his transformation.

_Take what's yours by right and be done with it_, a so very seductive whisper caressed his mind and deprived him of the last remains of his waning resolve. _A creature of your power and malevolence who has bested death and the Unnamed alike and survived the ages fighting his battles on his own doesn't need a frail mortal to vanquish his foes. Admittedly Vryce doesn't conform to your usual tastes, but he's strong and will please you much longer than the delicate beauties you're wont to hound to death, and when you've squeezed the last delicious shiver of fear from his screaming soul there's still the river of hot blood to satisfy your needs and cleanse yourself from the taint of humanity._

Smiling wickedly Tarrant mantled over the priest, every inch as beautiful and lethal as the black raptor he preferred for his transformations, and gloried in the helplessness of his prey. Savouring the moment he slowly bowed his head, instinctively aiming for the large veins at the side of Vryce's neck, but before he could get down to action the warrior knight managed to surprise him once again. Instead of struggling for dear life that damned nuisance in the guise of a man cradled his head and pulled him further down until their lips met. Not a single one of his victims had ever dared something that outrageous, and for a moment the adept felt sorely tempted to take vengeance for this unbelievable audacity, but when a certain _longing_ he had considered dead and buried for good when he had struck his appalling bargain with the forces of the dark stirred inside him he found himself returning the kiss with equal passion.

Vryce arching under him and moaning lasciviously caused Gerald's body to react with frightening intensity, and apart from the strict rules of conduct set by his compact Damien could have taken him right there on the soft forest soil and to hell with their vast differences and unresolved problems, but in spite of his arousal he still knew better than to indulge in an act of procreation as deadly to him as the killing sunlight. Trembling in every limb with thirst and desire alike the adept broke away from the enticing occupation of plundering the priest's mouth and devoured his prey with his eyes. Damien's heart was racing, and the alluring scent of musk and blood emanating from his writhing body finally got the better of the Hunter. He had to have Vryce, and he _would_ have him, if in the only manner still available to his undead flesh. Growling ferociously like the mindless beast he had always feared to become he yanked the warrior knight's head back and buried his fangs in his throat.

_The nights challenge him_  
_He is here because of greed_...

Feeding on the meek little lambs' terror while amusing himself with listening to their tearful pleads had been satisfying in the extreme, but nothing, absolutely nothing had ever felt as good as Vryce's muscular body pressing against his own while his blood was gushing into Gerald's mouth in rapid spurts. The adept bit down harder and swallowed greedily until he sobbed into Vryce's torn neck with sheer ecstasy. After the passing of a millennium he had but faint reminiscences of the pleasures of the flesh, of the slow rising of tension until every fibre of the body shook with the hunger for release, but surely the experience had to pale in comparison to this unholy but yet so very exhilarating perversion of a sexual union. At last Vryce was his as it had been predestined from their first meeting in that miserable dae in Briand, and for a Knight of the Flame it was only befitting to meet his fate at the hands of the Premier of his order.

"Gerald, no! Don't!"

From far, far away a jarringly insistent voice disturbed his feasting and urged him to release his dying victim, but there was no way that he would stop before he had drained Vryce of the last drop of his precious blood. All at once strong hands were upon his shoulders and pulled him back forcibly, and with a vicious snarl devoid of any humanity whatsoever the adept wheeled around with bared teeth and launched himself at the being who had dared to come between the Hunter and his prey. The wretched intruder shouldn't have stood the ghost of a chance against his inhuman strength, but to Gerald's dismay the sturdy frame seemed to slip through his fingers like a silvery mist each and every time he went for the kill just to solidify again a moment later. Beside himself with rage Tarrant summoned the dark fae and screamed a powerful Banishing, but he could have spared his breath, and in the next instance he found himself pinned to the ground and incapable of moving a limb.

"Dear Mother of us all, get a grip on yourself, Gerald! It's just one of Calesta's despicable illusions. You have to shake it off at once!"

Somehow the desperate urgency in the deep voice penetrated the mind-blowing haze of wrath and insatiable, maddening hunger obscuring the Neocount's mind, and as his field of vision cleared slowly but surely Tarrant's questioning gaze fell on a well-known, very worried Iezu. "Karril?"

"The very same, my friend. Thank goodness you're recognizing me again", the God of Pleasure replied with a heartfelt sight of relief. "For a moment I thought I would have to adopt more drastic measures. You truly gave me a fright, you know."

And with good reason, as far as Gerald was concerned. Calesta. Despite his best intentions that cunning son of a bitch had bested him once again, an irrefutable fact that would have caused him to blush with shame if he had still been a mortal man. Ruthlessly the Iezu had exploited Vryce's infatuation and his own growing admiration for the man who had rescued him from certain doom on more than one occasion and had beguiled him into unleashing the beast inside him. The delicious taste of the priest's blood still lingered on his tongue, and trickles of the red liquid had trailed down his chin and sullied the embroidered collar of his tunic.

_Don't be fooled by his friendly smile_  
_Don't you follow his treacherous voice _  
_That leads the fool into his arms._

For the third time Calesta had indeed played him for a fool_, _and the Hunter shivered with the force of his rage. This wasn't just about saving humankind from the clutches of a demon any longer but something very, very personal, and sure as hell he wouldn't rest until he had brought down the bastard who had managed to run rings around the very man who had been the unchallenged master of his fate for centuries now like nobody before.

Drawing a deep breath to control his anger the adept dared a fleeting glance at the priest who was still laying motionlessly on the ground, and what he saw made his skin crawl with dread. Vryce was white as a sheet, and the slow rising and falling of his broad chest was barely discernible under the shredded remains of his shirt. Good heavens, how much of Damien's blood did he take in his feeding frenzy?

Sensing his friend's anguish of mind Karril knelt at the warrior knight's side and touched his clammy forehead with a chubby, beringed finger. Long seconds passed, and Tarrant held his breath until the God of Pleasure looked up and smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry, Gerald. You didn't exactly go easy on your sweetheart, but he's a resilient fellow, and with a bit of rest and food he should be up and about in no time at all."

"Have you lost your wits, demon?" the Neocount of Merentha sneered contemptuously and shot the Iezu a withering glare which spoke volumes. "I'm indeed grateful for your intervention because you prevented me from killing a valuable ally, but to suggest that Vryce and I are anything but natural enemies fighting for a common cause is outright ludicrous."

Karril snorted disbelievingly and wagged his finger at the adept. "Deny it to your heart's content, but you had better remember that you can't hide your yearnings from one of my kind. Not everything was an illusion, as you probably very well know. Vryce desires you, and I can't help but entertaining the sneaking suspicion that his feelings aren't entirely unrequited. Be careful, my friend! My sibling will stop at nothing to crush the men who have thwarted his plans twice so far, and that unfinished business between you and your handsome priests renders you much too vulnerable for my peace of mind. If I were in your shoes I would confront Damien and lay it on the line. It won't hurt you."

The Hunter just glowered at him, his angelic face still smeared with traces of Vryce's blood an impenetrable alabaster mask, and Karril abandoned his foredoomed attempts to talk some sense into his proud, incorrigible friend. As usual Gerald would go his own way, and the Iezu could just hope that it won't lead him and the deplorable priest straightaway on the road to ruin. Sighing inwardly the God of Pleasure resigned himself to the thankless task of watching over a man who wasn't prone to heeding advice from the well-meaning souls who had the misfortune to care about him.

"And what are your plans now, Gerald?" Karril inquired at long last. "Dawn is near, and as you're very likely not keen on burning to a cinder you should get your butt in gear and fly to your fabulous castle. If I'm not completely mistaken the priest's bolted mare isn't far off, and you can leave him to me and have a guest room prepared for us meanwhile. I suppose you'll have a lot to explain when he comes to again, and under the given circumstances I'd rather not leave the two of you alone. But mark my words, my friend! My repeated interference with family affairs puts my very existence on the line, and you've already taken enough chances to last you several lifetimes."

Fighting down a surge of irritation Gerald kept his face carefully blank. The Iezu's damned disposition to mother-hen him as if he were a babe in arms started to grate on his nerves, but Karril evidently had a point. The flaring tingle of very human arousal as he remembered Vryce's lustful groans convinced him that there was indeed '_unfinished business'_ between Vryce and himself, and maybe, just maybe the priest hadn't been the only one who had had to face his worst fears on that accursed night.

The four-legged nocturnal predators inhabiting the Forbidden Forest had already sought shelter long ago, and Gerald could feel the approach of the dawn in his very bones. Resolutely the Hunter pushed down his nagging misgivings and entrusted himself to the fae as he had done countless times before. Coldfire flared about him, devouring his flesh until a glorious, pitch-black bird of prey with garnet talons rose from the flames at the very last moment and soared into the slowly brightening night sky.

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_**Hunter's Night**_

The heavy air is hard to breath

The nights challenge her

She is here because of greed

She feels the smell of fear

She senses it in the air

There's nowhere to run

And there's nowhere, nowhere to hide.

Don't you look into her evil eyes

Don't touch her cold skin or You slowly will die

Don't be fooled by her friendly smile

Don't you follow her treacherous voice

That leads the fool into her arms.

..  
Here she comes chasing after your poor soul

She won't let your heart go on

The hunter's night will last forever

No one out there knows she's here

Hurry before it's too late

Silent steps approaching you..

RUSSEL ALLEN & JORN LANDE - HUNTER'S NIGHT LYRICS (Album: The Battle)


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